


Fawnlock Catches the Hunter

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fawnlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:59:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or What the Fuck am I Doing?</p><p>John goes hunting for rare fruit but he's far less successful than Fawnlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fawnlock Catches the Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21231.html?thread=124728559#t124728559

A fawn's penis is the ultimate aphrodisiac, the only thing known to cure even the most persistent case of impotence. So rare and difficult a find that from the proceeds of one sale a man can live the rest of his life in luxury or buy his sister out of servitude and into safety.

The legends say fawns live deep in the Forest of Dean hidden amongst the King's deer. To be caught hunting on the King's land is a death sentence but leaving Harriet with Lord Waltham is unthinkable. So John took the mule and tacked his way across London’s dirty cobbled streets, out into the lawless lands of Oxfordshire, and across the border to Gloucester, dodging cutthroats and lawmen with too much time on their hands through the quiet shires. His stomach was twisted in knots from hunger most of the journey and he thought if he never had to sleep in the rain beneath a ratty wool cloak again he would die a happy man, but knowing his sister was at Lord Waltham’s tender mercies drove him on. Out of the streets of Gloucester and its easy pickings across the farmland. Across the patchwork of agricultural land broken up by tight huddles of houses and blank-eyed serfs who saw too much into the wildness of the forest.

John was never much of a woodsman, too interested in learning by far for a blacksmith’s son. Their father swore the Lord got it wrong when he and Harry tumbled from their mother’s womb. Put a woman’s soul in a man’s body and a man’s in a woman’s. For his sister, though, John would brave the woods, wander deep into them until their paths halted and his naive eyes would learn to distinguish the animal tracks.

Look among the heavy bracken, between the thick deciduous trees to find the deer that run free on the King’s land, protected from harm bar those few days a year the King hunts. 

Stumble and fall and scare off the first few herds he found. Learn patience and to remain still until they came to him. Work out where the deer go regularly. Follow them through the forest until he found where the fawns joined them. Then wait still on the edge of a forest clearing until a fawn entered alone. 

It was a gorgeous creature, wandering unawares through the clearing. Its eyes focused on the tracks it followed. Its head held proud even with its full rack of antlers and its smooth graceful profile interrupted only by the thick jut of its flaccid cock. Innocent and ethereal, made not of or for this muddy world.

The fawn’s pelt was a mass of thick dark curls that looked as soft as down that ran from its proud head across its perfectly proportioned shoulders and to its strong back to frame the round globes of its arse. It rippled as the fawn stopped to investigate a tree trunk with a peculiar intensity for a beast.

John found himself drawn inexorably closer, the fawn still innocent of his presence despite his awkward movements, until he was close enough to reach out and touch the thick black pelt that grew across the fawn’s shoulders.

As his hand grazed the fawn’s fur, it turned faster than John could react. Its hand squeezed painfully tight around his wrist and its deceptively strong body pinned him to the ground. Holding him at its mercy, the fawn looked down at him. Eyes moving over his face and shoulders with no concern for the man attempting to fight his way from beneath it until John's squirms were from embarrassment rather than his defeated desire to get away and all his frustrated energy had transferred itself to his cock.

The fawn held him beneath it with punishing force, seeming to have no concern for his well-being. It released one of his hands to explore his forehead with rough pokes and shoves. It frowned and moved down to yank the collar of his shirt apart, pushing the shirt down until it caught on his shoulders and pulled hard at the exposed flesh at the back of John’s neck. When he was sore and embarrassingly hard, the fawn stopped exploring his face and grabbed his free wrist, pressing them both hard in to the ground at his sides.

Unfettered curiosity was the only expression consistent on the fawn’s face that John could identify before some brief expression flashed over its features and its hold on John's hands was transferred to one punishingly tight grip and it ripped his shirt further open to expose his chest. The free hand wended its way between their bodies to explore John's cock. "Ah!" the fawn articulated, its face brightening into a smile that put the sun’s tepid rays to shame.

"Please," John begged, not sure if he was asking for more or for it to stop as the fawn proved rather more apt than John would have thought a beast capable. It brought him fully to hardness and distracted him so thoroughly that he didn't notice his trousers being removed until they were tangled around his boots and the fawn’s fingers danced over his balls and further back to run around his tight entrance. John gasped and his eyes flickered closed under the fawn's piercing gaze while fingers pushed hard against his lips, encouraging him to suck them, let them slide in and out of his mouth in a parody of the fucking he so desperately wanted. He moaned deeply against them, bucking up against the impressively large cock pressing against his stomach until the fingers were pulled from his mouth and roughly pushed inside of him. The pain was welcome after the teasing and the fizzing edge of pleasure, making him push down, fighting to fuck himself on their invading presence while he imagined the far greater invasion of the fawn's cock.

Too soon, the fawn pulled his fingers out, spat unceremoniously on his hand and pressed his barely slick cock into John. It felt like he was being split in two, the cock far bigger than any he'd taken before and the preparation far less, but still the pleasure bubbled under his skin. The push and drag made the pain feel good and necessary to the sickening press of it, twisting deeper into his stomach, making him arch up into every thrust. His balls tightened and his hands twisted against the restraining grip, desperate to touch.

The fawn was gasping, his antlers digging into the ground as he fucked John across the clearing. His body was awake with fine tremors that bit his nails into John's wrists. As he came close to the brink, he threw his head back, baring a long white throat framed by tight black curls. Something in the sight pushed John over the edge, making him spurt his release over their stomachs and lose himself in the tight press.

He woke up alone in a clearing he didn't recognise, his arse aching and his clothes in a pile at his feet. As he dressed he noticed a black mark across his chest. Stumbling to a stream, he looked at his reflection. He could just make out the letters S. H. E. R. L. O. C. K.


End file.
